


Upstairs, in the Shop

by OneofWebs



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Come Eating, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Face-Sitting, Female Ejaculation, Groping, Kissing, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Nipple Licking, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Power Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Praise Kink, Riding, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-27 11:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20406976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: After a bit of miracle renovation, Aziraphale has the perfect place for Crowley to stay tied up above the shop so he can visit him whenever he wants.Companion Piece toPatience is Kind, but can be read as a standalone.





	Upstairs, in the Shop

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little companion piece to [Patience is Kind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20073769) but it can be read as a stand alone, don't worry! Been working on this for a little bit, so I hope it's good!!!

Just because Crowley had agreed to this doesn’t mean he wasn’t _annoyed_ about it. If he’d agreed to just something slightly different, then maybe. Maybe. But it was a large if on the maybe, because he would have gotten greedy. He knew he would have. Having Aziraphale so close to him always made him just a touch peckish, so to say, for more. Always more, and where the sentiment was usually reciprocated tenfold, it had died that morning before Aziraphale had even unbuttoned his top. Crowley should have known something was wrong when he’d woken up and Aziraphale was already dressed, but he figured that it only made sense. They’d _agreed_ to this, after all.

A week prior, eight days to be exact, it had been nothing short of a treat to leave Aziraphale locked up in the flat for Crowley’s own pleasure. It had been _exquisite_. Aziraphale had wanted to try it again, and Crowley was more than _happy_ to oblige. Even if it meant he’d have to mind the shop. Nothing went according to his new plan, though. Not when Aziraphale had showed him the tiny apartment miracled above the shop, now. It had the barest essentials—the bedroom, a plush bed slightly smaller than Crowley’s, and a bathroom. He looked quite _proud_ of himself, for it, so even with the beige bedspread, Crowley had to tell him he’d done a nice job. The question remained of the purpose to the new room. Aziraphale didn’t sleep. He’d never needed an apartment in the shop before. He certainly didn’t need one if he was going to live with Crowley for the foreseeable future, but there it was. Pristine and decorated.

That was around the moment Crowley realized it was _his_ turn to be locked in a room for the day. It wouldn’t have been his first choice until he saw the absolute _delight_ spelled over Aziraphale’s face in cheek creases and a toothy grin. Suddenly, it was the first of all his first choices, and Crowley was eager to hear more. To make Aziraphale happy, and the little wiggle that he gave surely indicated nothing to the contrary. One thing led to another, and then Crowley was agreeing to stay the night in the new little apartment. He’d even miracled over a night bag, even at Aziraphale’s insistence that he wouldn’t need it. Crowley wanted to be prepared, though, especially after he’d _explicitly_ given Aziraphale permission to do whatever he wanted. What that entailed—Crowley wouldn’t know until it happened. He was fine with that, if not a bit nervous.

It was how he landed himself in his current predicament, anyway. Annoyed and aroused. Aziraphale had been entirely dressed when he woke Crowley up, a hand down his silken trousers rubbing at him. At the time, Crowley hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t _cared._ Aziraphale had his soft and primly manicured hand down his trousers, and _really_, what else was there but that? Quite nothing, Crowley decided, not when Aziraphale was kissing him in just the way that he did. Always a little hesitant to be in charge, but his kisses were firm as they were messy. Wonderfully warm, too, and Crowley was rather pliant under it with his sleep-dazed demeanor. When Aziraphale started unbuttoning his sleep shirt, he didn’t stop him. He curled into it, instead, to get Aziraphale’s hands on his chest faster.

Crowley pushed himself up just to drop his shirt off his shoulders and wriggle his way out of it, all while keeping his lips locked with Aziraphale’s. Once he was free of his shirt, he was an _active_ participant in the kiss: his hands in Aziraphale’s curls, pulling him close and introducing tongue. Always with the tongue. He could do such obscene things with his tongue, and Aziraphale moaned into their kiss. Finally, _finally_, then, his hand dipped down into Crowley’s shorts. He hissed at the sudden chill over his prick, but Aziraphale stroked him with an urgency unlike their normal morning romps. Like he was _trying_ to get Crowley off. Which was fine. It was entirely fine by Crowley’s standards. He bucked his hips into Aziraphale’s hand and tried to push his trousers and smalls down.

When he’d finally gotten them down past his thighs, the rest was as easy as kicking. Aziraphale had all the room to work now and dipped his fingers even lower. He cupped Crowley’s sack and rolled it in his hands, feeling the weight of him before returning to his shaft. He stroked it with such purpose that Crowley was helpless to do anything but groan. Still kissing, as they were, it was a muffled sound, but Aziraphale felt every rumble of it and worked a little faster. He pressed his thumb over Crowley’s slit, and Crowley’s back arched into him. He was close. He was _close_, and Aziraphale was doing that perfect little thing just under the head of his cock—and he stopped. Aziraphale pulled away near entirely.

“Angel—” Crowley groaned, but Aziraphale put a finger over his own lips to tell Crowley to hush. Crowley frowned.

“You said I could do anything, didn’t you?” Aziraphale had the audacity to look _guilty_ about it. Hell help him if Crowley wasn’t weak to that stupid little pout, so he grumbled and grunted but didn’t protest. Even if he was achingly hard now, his prick standing well at attention and dripping a nice little mess over his pelvis. They _had _a word. If Crowley _really_ didn’t like this, he could say it. Though, he’d be hard pressed to find anything Aziraphale did that he wouldn’t like, so he waited.

He waited through it all, and it left him with one hand tied to each bed post and one of Aziraphale’s tartan scarves tied around his eyes. So fine, Crowley _had _agreed to this. Aziraphale was being a bit of a shit about the whole thing though, leaving him like this with nothing so much as a chaste little kiss to his cheek. It wasn’t particularly fair, because Crowley remembered leaving Aziraphale thoroughly fucked before he’d run off for half the day. Aziraphale hadn’t even let him come, and now he was stuck on the bed with nothing to do for himself but _think._

His prick was aching for attention, and even with all the effort he could muster, it would not just go away. Would have been better if it did, but it was right there between his thighs begging for attention. Aziraphale had been thorough, though, and left him tied tight enough that he couldn’t even so much turn over, though it probably had more to do with the _way_ he was tied than anything else. Crowley didn’t want to think too hard about that. He wanted to think about Aziraphale, instead. That kiss they’d had this morning had been long and exciting. Without a single need for air, _God_, they could kiss for ages. Crowley’s tongue down his throat, feeling all the little bumps and crooks of his mouth and finding that one little sensitive spot he had just at the roof. Aziraphale always shuddered so prettily for him; that hadn’t happened this morning, for good reason. Aziraphale had been a bit preoccupied with his hand over Crowley’s prick—but what if it had been his mouth?

Crowley groaned at the thought and wished, wholeheartedly, that he could get his hand on himself for this. Aziraphale was a set of walking contradictions when it came to his preferences and enjoyments. He loved putting his mouth on Crowley. Anywhere he could reach. And going down on him always left Aziraphale a bit hot for something more. The way Crowley’s prick would hit that spot in the back of his mouth and make him shiver; Aziraphale could come from it. He could come from having Crowley’s cock in his mouth and nothing more, and oh the sounds he made were obscene. The whole picture was obscene, Aziraphale’s mouth around him. His lips stretched to accommodate, and oh he would still ask for Crowley to be thicker. If he could. If it were possible. Crowley always obliged until Aziraphale could physically take no more.

It was always _messy_ too, and Crowley had to keep a hand in Aziraphale’s hair to guide him. Where he lacked in skill, Aziraphale made up in enthusiasm. He groaned around Crowley’s cock, choked on it if he desired. He drooled when he sucked, to the point his eyes would roll back like this was the pinnacle of pleasure. It had to be. Crowley could see it then, laying back the way he was with Aziraphale kneeling between his thighs and positively worshiping him with his mouth. His tongue wasn’t quite so skilled, but the little look he had when he licked a broad stripe up and over Crowley’s cockhead was magnificent. Crowley’s hips bucked at the thought, those wide forlorn eyes. He loved them. He loved the way Aziraphale shivered when he took Crowley to the back of his throat, sometimes _into_ his throat. Every now and again, Crowley would feel the scrape of teeth over the top of his cock and jerk, but Aziraphale corrected immediately. Always. In such a loving suck that Crowley could forgive and forget. Settle back down into it.

Aziraphale’s hips would start to move, then. He would start to shudder and sigh over Crowley’s cock and try to take it even further. Even with his nose buried in Crowley’s pubic hair, he would try to get more. He would swallow and moan and wiggle around until he was coming, just from that. Just from having his mouth stuffed with Crowley’s prick. Aziraphale was a delight, a spectacular little thing who had been so cruel as to leave Crowley the way that he was. Thinking about this and not able to touch himself—it was maddening.

After a minute of hard breathing, Crowley’s hips had finally settled themselves. No more bucking on their own. Now he was ever pressed to find a clock. It wouldn’t matter, because he couldn’t see. But he needed to know how long he’d been lying there, how long he’d been _dreaming_ about Aziraphale’s lips. They were plump and full just like the rest of him, and how Crowley wanted to get his hands on the rest of him. He was left there thinking about what Aziraphale could _possibly_ have in store for him. It might be an exact replay of their previous encounter, but Crowley was ready for that. This wouldn’t have been his first choice for how Aziraphale first fucked him, but if it’s what Aziraphale wanted, he’d be helpless to refuse him. Still, the possibilities were _endless._

Maybe, just maybe, he’d get something out of Aziraphale’s mouth from this. Crowley couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually come from it, but he might. He might today. If Aziraphale would only return to him and let him go. He could fuck Aziraphale’s mouth until he was satisfied, cover his lips and cheeks in come and then smear it into him. Yes—yes, he rather liked the idea of Aziraphale covered in his come. Liked the idea of Aziraphale liking it too, maybe looking at it like it was the next delicacy for him to savor. Crowley could do that; Crowley could _definitely_ do that. He could feed Aziraphale his come, if that’s what he wanted. Aziraphale was a nasty little thing at heart, even if he didn’t want to admit it. But he was admitting to it, really, through all this. And he was right downstairs. All he had to do was come upstairs and see Crowley like this, thighs spread and aching for him.

If there were any patrons in the shop, would they hear? Would they know what obscene things their bookkeeper got up to in his spare time? That he kept someone upstairs to use for his own pleasure—oh, Crowley was harder just thinking about it. That’s what he was here for. Whatever and whenever Aziraphale felt the _urge_, he could come upstairs and do whatever he wanted. Crowley wouldn’t even see him enter. Oh, but he would _hear_ him, and when the door creaked open, a jolt of something went right for Crowley’s cock.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley didn’t recognize the sound of his own voice. He sounded _fucked_ and nothing had even happened.

“It’s me, dear,” Aziraphale replied, but he hushed Crowley afterward.

Crowley listened to Aziraphale step, and the floor was just as creaky as a well lived in studio apartment. The finer little details that Aziraphale was always such a stickler for had Crowley forgetting this bedroom was less than twenty-four hours old. He could map Aziraphale’s steps through the room, around the bed. Could even see him, in his mind, stop to hang his coat on the back of the bathroom door. He lingered a big longer, and Crowley could only assume he’d removed some _other_ article of clothing. He wouldn’t get his hopes up, though, for Aziraphale to join him _naked._ Even after the shuffling continued a bit longer. Longer. And then, Crowley felt the bed dip down.

At the sudden chilled press against his thigh, Crowley jolted. Already so touchy, but he’d reprimand himself for that later. This was Aziraphale’s fault. He’d left him up here for _God_ knows how long, and he wanted to come. All Aziraphale was doing was stroking his thighs, coaxing them farther apart until there was room enough for him to settle down between them. The next touch was nothing like the first. No. It was hot and wet and a _tongue_ licking a broad stripe up the underside of Crowley’s cock, and he groaned. If his little fantasy was about to come true, the wait had been well worth it.

Aziraphale’s tongue felt good, Crowley was already so sensitive for it. All he was doing was licking little kitten things against him, starting at the base and working up until he was tonguing over the slit. Crowley’s hips bucked, and then there were hands holding him down, pinning his hips to the bed so he couldn’t do that again. He groaned in frustration, but Aziraphale was licking him again. He followed the vein along the underside, dipped just under the head. Crowley was nearly shaking with it, trying to move against Aziraphale’s hand. The only leverage he was allowed was when Aziraphale pulled one hand away to grip him tight at the base of his cock.

“Aziraphale—!” Crowley whined and pushed his hips up.

“Now, you said I could what I wanted,” Aziraphale reminded. “And I sorely want to get my mouth on you.”

Crowley whined but he couldn’t _deny_ Aziraphale anything. He tried to relax against the bed instead of thrusting up when he felt Aziraphale’s lips around his cockhead. This was going to be one of _those_ blow jobs, he knew it. Where Aziraphale went slow and took his pleasure from it too. Crowley could come from the visual alone, but he could _see_ anything. He could only feel as Aziraphale sunk down over him, slowly enveloping him in that heat at the back of his throat. When Aziraphale groaned, it sent shocks right through Crowley’s cock and he groaned. This was going to be _torture._

Aziraphale bobbed his head and moved his fist in time, with hollow cheeks and moans each time Crowley’s cockhead brushed the top of his mouth. He was shivering, between Crowley’s thighs, and holding onto his hip for purchase. Each time he went down, Aziraphale took more and more of Crowley into his mouth until he pulled his hand away to fondle Crowley’s sack instead. And then—then, Aziraphale could go all the way down. He took it in strides, all the way down to the base where he pressed his nose into Crowley’s pelvis until he choked and then pulled back. Drooling and licking over the head of his cock before forcing himself back down.

Crowley couldn’t _see_, but he could hear. Every time Aziraphale took him fully, he groaned. He moaned. The bed shifted; Aziraphale was trembling with his own need. He wanted to come, too. And he would, Crowley knew he would. If he just kept it up, Aziraphale could come just like this. But he seemed determined to make sure Crowley finished, too, and his hands started to wander over Crowley’s thighs. He was making a mess over Crowley’s cock, and the slide was so hot and wet. Crowley was shaking by the time Aziraphale pulled back with a pop. He was getting _better_ at this, Crowley couldn’t deny. When he lost that heat, his hips bucked instinctively.

“Aziraphale—what are you? You have to finish,” Crowley panted.

“Are you sure?” Aziraphale suddenly sounded hesitant. “Am I doing alright? You haven't—”

“Marvelous, angel, magnificent. Please, please, just,” his hips bucked of their own accord, “finish me. I know you’re about to come too.”

Crowley didn’t so much see Aziraphale’s face go red as he did hear the little whimper that left his throat. Right on the mark, then, and Crowley couldn’t help but feel the bubble of pride. He knew Aziraphale too well for Aziraphale to keep that from him. Whatever he’d said must have spurred something on, too, because Aziraphale’s mouth was back on him in an instant. He followed the lines of saliva and precum that dripped down Crowley’s cock with his lips. Kissing over him and sucking right at the base where cock met balls. Crowley groaned, but he behaved. He kept his hips pinned to the bed while Aziraphale worked himself back up. It took minutes for Aziraphale to finally go down on him again, and it was worth it. Every slide down was another slide closer to orgasm; Crowley could feel it. He was about to come, and the only thing he could do was try not to buck his hips. He’d let Aziraphale take his time and _explore_, all the while Aziraphale was squirming in his own shorts.

“Aziraphale—I’m close. I’m about too—” Crowley tried to warn, but Aziraphale didn’t pull off.

He sunk down farther, taking Crowley as deep into his throat as he could manage and held there. Sucking, running his tongue where he could reach. There was just the _slightest_ press of teeth, but Crowley could ignore that because he came, a second later, in hot spurts down Aziraphale’s throat. Aziraphale swallowed all of it, eagerly, and stayed still until he’d milked ever last drop Crowley had to give him. Only then did he pull back, still shivering from the mess he’d made of himself. Knowing that he’d done enough to make Crowley come was all the pleasure he needed to unleash in his shorts. The mess was sticky, but he felt. Satisfied.

“Angel, did you—did you swallow?” Crowley had to know.

“Everything,” Aziraphale assured, leaning over to kiss Crowley, then. Crowley returned it with fervor, licking into Aziraphale’s mouth and making him shudder, again. Aziraphale had to pull back, searching for breath where he needed none, just to ensure he wouldn’t start something again.

“I’ve got to return to the shop,” Aziraphale said, suddenly scrambling off the bed. “Oh, dear.”

Crowley shifted on the bed, keeping his amusement to himself. “Make a mess, did you?”

“You—!” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and fixed himself immediately, a quiet little wiggle of ‘take that, Crowley’, where Crowley just smiled and relaxed back into the bed. “I’ll be back for you later,” Aziraphale huffed, and Crowley _shivered_ at the thought.

The thought was enough to stir his cock back up, too, which had probably been the point. Aziraphale wasn’t just about to _leave_ knowing Crowley would get some reprieve, of course, and Crowley would find none. He was too interested in the what ifs. Aziraphale would come back. That had most likely been a lunch break, which surprised Crowley a bit. That Aziraphale would give up his designated lunch time to suck Crowley’s dick, instead. Though, and Crowley felt rather proud of this, it had probably _been_ lunch. Aziraphale’s oral fixation went farther than just liking something down his throat.

Aziraphale always took a second break near the end of the day, and Crowley would expect him back for that. What he would do was left to the imagination. Aziraphale could come back with lubricant, and he would have to because miracles were _sorely_ off limits. He could settle nicely back between Crowley’s thighs and get him off on his fingers before _taking_ him. Crowley would let him, too, if Aziraphale wanted that. They’d never done it before, not yet, but if Aziraphale _wanted_, Crowley would give him anything he wanted. Including himself. He could already imagine the vision of his ankles hooked around Aziraphale’s neck to bring him closer, closer, as Aziraphale rocked into him and struggled to keep a rhythm. Crowley would rock into him, would help him along until he was sensitive and strung out and coming.

After that, Aziraphale would collapse on him and whine, apologize for coming too soon. He wouldn’t have the _strength_ left to continue, completely spent, and he would bring Crowley off with his hand or his mouth. It would be just as good, Crowley thought, knowing that no matter what position they took, he could still wring Aziraphale out and leave him breathless. Like that, he could cover Aziraphale in his come and leave him _wanting_ for more but too tired to take.

Option number two was something entirely different. Option number two involved Aziraphale coming in and planting himself on Crowley’s cock. Crowley wouldn’t even be picky about the effort, as long as he got to listen to Aziraphale work himself open. He’d sink down, after that, whining and whimpering all sorts of happy praises about how _good_ it felt to have Crowley so deep inside of him. Maybe he’d ask for a bigger prick; Crowley would oblige. Smaller, thicker, longer—anything Aziraphale wanted of him, he’d do it. And he’d lay there while Aziraphale rode him, making his own pleasure of it until his thighs trembled, and he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. He’d release Crowley and _beg_ to be fucked. Crowley was always so kind, too.

Crowley would have to wait, whatever other options there were. He carded through all of them in his head, waiting for Aziraphale to come back. There was even an attempt made at struggling out of his bindings, but he gave up rather fast. The only way out would be a miracle, and that would ruin Aziraphale’s plan. Instead, he slouched into the pillows and squirmed. No friction could be found in the air, and his cock was aching for it. Maybe he shouldn’t have done so much thinking; he could feel the drip of precum down his shaft, the bit of mess he was making. Aziraphale would have a _field_ day with that. He hadn’t even had to do anything; Crowley was just _thinking_ about him and was already insatiable for it.

Hours passed, and Crowley’s erection did not falter, the bugger. Crowley _wished _it would, so he could rest, but nothing. Nothing when Aziraphale’s second break was to be, either, and Crowley couldn’t help but be frustrated over that. If Aziraphale really meant to just leave him up here the rest of the day, he probably _would_ miracle himself out. It wouldn’t come to that, though. Where he would have had a half hour break, Aziraphale closed the shop a half hour early. Crowley knew the routine well enough to figure that when the door opened again, and he mapped Aziraphale’s movements back to the bathroom door.

Aziraphale stripped himself down until he was wearing nothing but his shirt, which he had unbuttoned completely. It was something like a security blanket, even if Crowley couldn’t _see _him, which was admittedly the second security blanket. He’d never really taken this kind of charge before and was worried, without these, he would have already tapped out. With Crowley as hard as he was, it was hard for Aziraphale to keep with that thought. His worry had been nothing short of Crowley would hate this. Crowley wouldn’t want to do this, and if he did, it was only to humor Aziraphale. But Crowley was achingly hard and dripping—Aziraphale couldn’t take that any other way if he tried. Crowley was _enjoying_ this.

With that, Aziraphale felt emboldened. Like he could do anything. Crowley had said he could, sure, but that didn’t mean Aziraphale wasn’t _nervous_ about this new role. There was no reason to be nervous, not really, not anymore. When he approached the bed, he did so with a bit more confidence than he had the first time. He didn’t _ease_ on, like the first time. He pulled himself up and sat squarely on Crowley’s hips, where his cock was nestled between his cheeks and _ignored_ while Aziraphale leaned forward over his chest.

“Crowley,” He whispered, “I’m back.”

“I can—I can _feel_ that angel,” Crowley sounded a bit out of breath. He rolled his hips up, experimentally, feeling the give of Aziraphale’s arse. He could bury his cock between those fat cheeks for hours, if Aziraphale would let him. This wasn’t the time, apparently, because Aziraphale moved forward until Crowley couldn’t do that anymore.

“This is for me, dear,” Aziraphale told him. “Behave.”

“I’ve _behaved _for the last odd hours—” Crowley’s protest was cut off by a kiss hard enough to knock teeth. It was softer, after, with lips against lips, and Crowley trying to poke his tongue past. Aziraphale let him, always, and Crowley’s tongue danced over all the little sensitive spots he’d come to learn. Aziraphale keened and shivered against him, and _that_ was when Crowley realized. He could feel Aziraphale’s slick against his skin, gathering between them. Dripping out from his folds has he rubbed into Crowley’s stomach.

“Oh, angel,” Crowley said, with awe. He could already see that option one was out, for now. Aziraphale had something _different_ in mind.

“Ah, I seem to be a bit more eager for this than I thought,” Aziraphale laughed nervously. But they were kissing again, in a moment, while Aziraphale just rocked against him. Every swipe of Crowley’s tongue had him crooning, whimpering, until he had no choice but to pull back. He had an idea, suddenly.

“Crowley,” he said, “I need you to put that tongue to some use. You can do that for me, right?”

“Anything for you, angel,” Crowley already knew what was coming, but that didn’t stop the pleased little sound he made when Aziraphale’s thighs were around his head.

Crowley groaned to himself, already working his lips over Aziraphale’s cunt before he’d even settled. Aziraphale gasped and fell against the headboard, gripping it hard when Crowley’s tongue dipped between his labia and swiped at him. His tongue was thin and forked, still, and it could work into every little crease Aziraphale had to offer. Over his outer labia, the inner, and then ducked up right under his hood to flick at his clit. Aziraphale shuddered, his knuckles white, and his hips bucked.

It took all of a minute for Aziraphale to lose himself and sit over Crowley’s mouth, and _that_ was what Crowley wanted. Aziraphale was learning how to take control, how to take what he wanted. And he wanted Crowley’s mouth all over him, his tongue inside him. How could Crowley refuse? Aziraphale was so wet for him already, and the taste was enough to keep Crowley there. Licking between Aziraphale’s folds, mouthing around them, between them and over his hole. He was dripping there, and Crowley pressed his tongue inside. The glide was easy, and he had his whole tongue wound around inside Aziraphale within seconds. He was loud for it, gasping and moaning with every little flick of the forked tips. Crowley could lick all sides of him at once, if pressed, and when he ghosted over that little spot inside, Aziraphale nearly pulled away.

He stayed, instead, and ground down into Crowley’s lips again to feel them move over his cunt. Crowley was _dastardly_ good at this, and Aziraphale had a bit of pride knowing where all his practice came from. Crowley could eat him out for hours and had. Until he’d come a dozen times and was begging for it to end, but this time, Aziraphale was beginning for more in tiny gasps and heated groans. Crowley shifted ever slightly, his tongue somehow impossibly deeper, and his nose brushing against Aziraphale’s clit with every subtle little movement. Aziraphale’s jaw dropped open in a silent groan, like he’d lost all ability to speak. Crowley had stolen his breath right from him, and how unfair it was.

“Crowley—Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped. He was so close already—_already._ He could still count the minutes, but Crowley’s tongue was like a cord up inside him pressing into every little nerve all at once. Then his lips, ceaselessly caressing his labia. Aziraphale was _helpless_ but to come. He always did it so beautifully, too, in a gush of extra fluid that Crowley lapped at and sucked on until Aziraphale couldn’t hold himself up any longer and had to move away.

Crowley had the audacity to lick his lips, and Aziraphale went a stark red down to his chest. He looked over Crowley, still bound and blindfolded, and felt a bit of something at the sight. Like he could come again, immediately. There was the mess on his face now, too, to look at. Aziraphale’s slick spilled all over his cheeks and lips and chin, even over his _nose._ Aziraphale covered his mouth and tried not to audibly gawk at that. It felt so dirty, but Crowley was licking his lips again and looking rather pleased with himself. Aziraphale—well, he only had to oblige, after all. He leaned forward enough that he could run his fingers across Crowley’s cheek and over to his lips. When Crowley’s tongue darted out to lick, Aziraphale shuddered.

After a moment, Aziraphale leaned farther over to _taste_ himself on Crowley’s chin. To help clean up the mess with everything but his hands, and then they were kissing again. Tongues entangled and Crowley’s near the back of his throat again. It was so long, inhumanly long, and Aziraphale was sure Crowley made it longer just for him. The thought made him shudder, what that tongue could do if Aziraphale allowed it. He would allow it, eventually, just not now. He had a plan, and he was going to stick to it.

They parted a moment later, and Aziraphale straddled over Crowley’s hips, this time. His cock was pressed right up against his abdomen with Aziraphale’s weight, where it lined up nicely between his folds. Each time Aziraphale rolled his hips, he nearly enveloped Crowley’s cock with slick and heat; Crowley was gasping, bucking his hips up like that might help him find _more._ But he wouldn’t catch on Aziraphale’s hole, not like this. They both knew it, but Crowley was going to be damned if he didn’t try. He was eager for release, again, already. Aziraphale only had to oblige him, just tilt his hips a little—

“Could you come like this?” Aziraphale asked. He smoothed his hands down Crowley’s sides a moment later, a light and feathered touch that left Crowley shaking. “Could I truly rub you off just like this?”

“_Yes_,” Crowley hissed, though he was less annoyed and more painfully aroused. Even more so by the thought alone of what Aziraphale was attempting. He wanted to rub Crowley off with his cunt, of all things. And _Satan_, if Crowley hadn’t come right there. He was about to, anyway. Aziraphale was incessant. His hips kept moving, bucking in sweet little jerks to spread his slick over Crowley.

It was so wet, between them, and such a mess. Aziraphale _liked _a mess, though. That much was evident in the way he lived, but it all came together right here. Aziraphale over-produced. He was always _so_ wet. Always made _such_ a mess. He would drip and leak until the sheets were damp, and if he came in his own pants, they were _ruined._ Aziraphale couldn’t just come, no, he would gush in excess no matter what effort he made. It was perfect. Crowley thought it was perfect, especially when he was doing it a moment later, rubbing _himself_ off on Crowley’s cock. Crowley followed, and the _mess._ Always the mess.

Aziraphale shuddered and. Well. He always considered himself a connoisseur of sorts. This was surely no different. Even if Crowley was groaning in frustration when he lost the weight on his hips, he shut up a moment later when Aziraphale was tonguing slick and come off his pelvis. Off his _cock._ Like he was made to do it. Aziraphale licked up the mess, from his hip bones, all the way to his balls. And when he finished, licking a stripe up Crowley’s cock, he went down over him in one fell movement, taking Crowley all the way back to his throat. He held that for what felt like _ages_, humming around Crowley’s cock and ever pleased that Crowley was lying there, taking it. Then he pulled back, popped off with a smack of his lips and crawled right back over Crowley.

He’d given Crowley no more than minutes to recover before he was gripping him at the base of his cock, guiding his head between his folds until he’d sunk home. Aziraphale took all of him at once, sinking down until he was fully seated over Crowley and trembling. He was sensitive already, and the feel of Crowley’s cock filling up was enough to have him nearly coming again. Already. He couldn’t control himself around Crowley; he wanted as much as he could take as soon as he could have it, even if Crowley hadn’t been _ready_ for that. It was like the breath had been knocked out of him, his back arched, and head thrown back.

“_Christ_, angel,” Crowley gasped, “warn me next time.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale leaned over him, supporting himself with his hands on Crowley’s chest. “I didn’t realize _you_ liked to be the recipient of dirty talk.”

Crowley snorted, “that’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it? Surely, we could _try_. You said I could do whatever I wanted,” which he emphasized by rolling his hips, circling them over Crowley and working his cock deep. He could feel Crowley stiffen inside him, and he shivered.

“Yes, yes. Anything, angel, anything. If you want to talk, I want to hear you,” and Crowley rolled his hips for good measure.

Aziraphale focused on his hips, for a minute, rolling and rotating them. He could feel Crowley move inside him, the twitch of his cock. Oh, he loved it. He adored it: the way Crowley moved inside of him. How he was trying to work his hips, to work Aziraphale into moving. It wouldn’t work, though. Aziraphale would stay in control as soon as he got over thinking about how Crowley had wanted warning for this. That could mean so many things that he could _help_ but let his mind wander.

“You wanted me to tell you how I would do this, then, did you?” Aziraphale started. Oh, he felt a fool for it with his face red and tongue a bit dry, but Crowley couldn’t see him. So, he continued with a pointed roll of his hips. “You wanted me to _explain_ to you how I would take my pleasure, didn’t you, Crowley?”

“_Fuck_,” Crowley groaned. His hips jerked, but Aziraphale hadn’t moved yet, they had nowhere to go. Aziraphale was taking his sweet time, rocking along. Rubbing himself into Crowley. Making a bigger mess.

“I’m going to take you until I’m done,” Aziraphale whispered, right up against his ear. “I don’t even care if you don’t finish.”

Crowley knew that was a lie. Aziraphale did nothing but fret about it, that they both climaxed. Hell, if it didn’t sound good, though. He’d let Aziraphale do it, if he could. If Aziraphale could manage to fuck himself on Crowley’s cock for that long, Crowley would be _happy_ to watch. If only the blasted blindfold wasn’t there—not that he would complain about it. It made Aziraphale happy, so he would wear it all night if he had to. All he knew, following, was that Aziraphale’s breath wasn’t on his ear anymore.

Aziraphale had pulled back and braced himself on Crowley’s chest before he really began. He pulled himself up and slammed back down immediately, then set a pace quite like that. He impaled himself over Crowley’s cock fully over and over again, clenching his thighs and listening to Crowley’s groans of praise. Oh, but Aziraphale wanted more. He _always_ wanted more, and he all had to do was ask. Crowley’s cock was perfect the way it was, but thicker—Aziraphale could do with thicker. He wanted the stretch, he craved it, and he reached down between them to ghost over Crowley’s cock as it disappeared inside him.

“Crowley, can you? Please—bigger, I mean. I need more,” Aziraphale whined for it.

“Don’t ask me, angel,” Crowley bucked his hips up to meet Aziraphale each time. “_Tell_ me. Demand it of me.”

_Right._ Aziraphale was glad for the reminder, even if it made his face hot. He worried into his bottom lip, rolling his head to the side as he fucked himself a moment longer. Then, after he’d thought about it _just_ enough.

“Crowley, you’re not _enough_,” Aziraphale hissed, and Crowley shuddered. He hadn’t been expecting _that_, but it went straight to his cock. “Make your cock bigger for me. I want it thicker. _Please_ me.”

Crowley did please him, and suddenly Aziraphale was gasping at the stretch. It was almost too much, but Crowley knew just where to stop. It was just enough that Aziraphale felt it all the way inside him, but not too much that he had to stop. No, he went _faster_, if anything. Working himself down over Crowley’s cock and fully seating himself each time. Crowley wished he could _see_, and he even struggled against his restraints again. If he could get his hands on Aziraphale, Aziraphale wouldn’t last a second. But Aziraphale leaned over onto his hands again, his full weight pressing Crowley into the mattress as he fucked himself on Crowley’s cock.

“Stay still,” Aziraphale warned. “This is for _me._ You have to behave, or I’ll leave you here the whole night.”

Crowley nodded hurriedly, his hips jerking. He felt Aziraphale’s hand between them, then, ghosting over Crowley’s stomach until it was down over his pelvis, brushing around the base of his cock while Aziraphale fumbled to find his clit. Crowley knew the exact moment he found it; he clenched over Crowley’s cock and groaned, his rhythm faltering. His thighs were tight, and his knees were beginning to hurt, but he hadn’t finished yet. He wanted to finish, so badly, and Crowley was definitely helping. He moved to meet every one of Aziraphale’s movements, no matter what he did, and the feeling was amazing. The sound was even better, the slap of skin and the squelch of fluid.

“Crowley—_Crowley_,” Aziraphale whimpered. He was losing character already, and that was fine. It was fine. He hadn’t thought to keep it up for too long anyway, though he had _loved_ the faces Crowley made for it. Now, his only thought was coming. His hips worked with one purpose. It was the only thing on his mind. How fast could he come? How hard?

Oh, it had to be soon. Crowley was a devious little fiend at the worst of times, and at the best of times his cock was so perfectly shaped for Aziraphale that every time their hips slapped together his cockhead hit that spot inside of him that had him shivering. Shaking. Absolutely ruined. He wouldn’t last much longer at his point, and Crowley still seemed so reserved. How unfair it was—but Crowley always had liked to look. To _marvel_ over Aziraphale. Aziraphale could picture that predatory gaze looming over him, and maybe that’s what he was missing. He tried to imagine it, his eyes closed, and head thrown back, Crowley’s eyes. He imagined them just as he preferred them, bled yellow and just for him. A look just as evil as it was kind, and it spoke _mine, mine, mine_ as Crowley fucked him. Crowley _hungered_ for him, and that had been it. Fantasy or not, Aziraphale was coming over Crowley’s cock a second later, letting out a loud keen before collapsing forward barely able to hold himself up.

There was a long moment where the only thing that happened were brief little jerks of Crowley’s hips. He still hadn’t come. He was still _inside_ Aziraphale. And he was still hungry for it. Aziraphale could feel that just as well, but he was so _tired._ He could barely push himself back up to his hands, but he managed enough to push the blindfold off Crowley’s eyes. For the first time since this started, they _looked_ at each other. Crowley’s eyes were wide with pupils blown over how positively fucked Aziraphale looked with his jaw hanging open, his breath hard and heavy. Crowley gulped. Something about this seemed more intimate than anything they’d done.

“Angel,” he said, a bit raspy, “are you alright?”

Aziraphale nodded quickly before the worry could wash over him. “You haven’t—oh, I’m so sorry, Crowley, I don’t think—”

“Don’t apologize,” Crowley said. “Whatever you want, you know I’ll do it. Even if that means I have to wank off in the bathroom.”

“No! No, I mean,” Aziraphale straightened up a bit, pressing back over what was _clearly_ a very hard cock. He shivered. “Hold on,” he said.

Crowley watched with wide eyes as Aziraphale reached around and undid the bindings on his wrists and fully removed the blindfold. It took a long moment, as Aziraphale worked to get his motor control back, but when it was done, he leaned back into Crowley’s cock with purpose. Crowley just laid there, arms limp by his head, and stared. He wasn’t sure what it meant, exactly. What Aziraphale wanted.

“Crowley, if you’d please,” Aziraphale looked down while he spoke, too embarrassed to make eye contact. “If you’d like, I mean. You can, well. You can use me—”

Crowley was up before Aziraphale had even finished his sentence. Their chests were pressed together, then, and Crowley folded Aziraphale’s legs around his waist to keep him closer. Aziraphale shuddered, thinking now that Crowley had somehow gotten deeper inside him. The twitch of his cock along Aziraphale’s walls was almost too much to bear, post-orgasm, but he didn’t complain. He just leaned forward to meet Crowley in a desperate kiss while Crowley’s hands _roamed._ He hadn’t gotten to touch the entire time, and now he was touching anywhere he could reach. His hands started over Aziraphale’s thighs, then worked around over his arse to grab at his cheeks and pull them apart. When his hands started to ghost up Aziraphale’s back, Aziraphale pulled back with a gasp.

“Crowley, no, no, go back,” he said. It was in more of a whine, but it _was_ certainly a demand. He even pushed one of Crowley’s hand down faster, back to his arse. And oh, how Crowley grabbed at the fat there and molded it, massaged it between his fingers.

“Is that what you want, angel?” Crowley asked into the flesh of his neck. He ran his finger over Aziraphale’s puckered entrance just for emphasis.

“_Yes,_” Aziraphale breathed. He pointed to a nightstand that hadn’t been there before, with a drawer.

When Crowley leaned back, Aziraphale started a slow and subtle bounce over him. Just enough to keep them both aware until Crowley was back with lubricant, then. He spread it over one hand and held Aziraphale close before he got started, his fingers dipping back between his cheeks. All the while, Aziraphale rolled his hips, rode him with all the strength he had left. It wasn’t much, but it was enough that Crowley was groaning into him. With one hand over his arse, Crowley used his other to grab at Aziraphale’s chest, squeezing his right tit in his palm before ducking down to suck over it.

Aziraphale wasn’t even sure which way to press, now, with Crowley’s mouth over his nipple, his prick in his cunt, and his finger dipping inside his arse. The only thing missing was something in his mouth, but he could get buy if he needed to. He’d suck his own fingers if he didn’t feel quite a fool for it, but this was good. This was too good. His entire body was alight and on fire, burning for more as equally as it burned to stop. Aziraphale wouldn’t let himself stop, not until Crowley finished. He braced himself on Crowley’s shoulder, leaning into his mouth and his _teeth—God,_ teeth were pressing into his nipple while Crowley suckled and it was just, just too much. Not enough. Aziraphale didn’t _know_ anymore. All he could feel was Crowley, Crowley, _Crowley_ everywhere. In him. On him. Over him.

Fingers were working in and out of his arse, now, slowly and carefully; all the while, their hips were moving together while Aziraphale clenched and rolled, trying to coax Crowley into climax. He could see it on Crowley’s face, the way his brows were knitted, and his eyes were closed, he was close. He had to be. And even for it, he was still trying to bring Aziraphale over the edge one more time, mouthing over his chest like that. He moved to the left side, then, keeping his hand where it had been to pinch and tease Aziraphale’s nipple in his fingers.

The moment Aziraphale dug his fingers through Crowley’s hair, he was done. They were both done. Aziraphale came in a sudden clench over Crowley’s cock, and Crowley couldn’t hold it off any longer. They’d come _together_, and Aziraphale couldn’t hold back his smile. He had to kiss Crowley, had to. There was nothing that would stop him, in that moment, from kissing Crowley so fully that they fell back on the bed together, bouncing lightly in the springs and blankets. When they pulled apart, Aziraphale was tired but beaming, smiling with all teeth. Crowley returned the look, laughing even with his hands around Aziraphale’s cheeks.

“You’re marvelous,” he told him. “A complete bastard, angel, but marvelous.”

“And a mess,” Aziraphale said, but he didn’t mind it. Not really. Even if there was lubricant on his face, now, from Crowley’s fingers. They could shower.

“Yes, but you’re my mess, and I’d have it no other way. You really were quite _wonderful_, angel. I didn’t think you had it in you, but I’m just. I love you,” he decided on instead. His mind was moving too fast to form the words properly, and it seemed to move Aziraphale all the same. Their foreheads knocked, and Aziraphale smiled.

“I love you, too, dear. Oh, so much.”

They showered, after that, slowly and stupidly like it was the first shower they’d ever taken together. They kissed in the water, and Crowley was quite incapable of keeping his hands to himself. There never had to be anything more behind it, either, Crowley just liked to touch. He wanted to have his hands on as much as Aziraphale as he could, as often as could, and there was no better place for that than the shower, than clean up. Crowley could touch and grab and squeeze at anything he wanted, and Aziraphale would hum and lean into it, kissing all the while, because that’s what he liked. He liked the kissing. He would kiss until his lips were swollen and his tongue hurt, and then still ask for another. Two little quirks that worked so well, like this, pressed into the confines of a shower Aziraphale had made too small on purpose.

When they finished, after Crowley was done up in his silk pajamas, and Aziraphale had dressed in a night shirt, they were in bed. The one miracle they would allow for nights like these, because nobody actually wanted to change bedsheets in exhaustion. So, the bed was clean, and they were in it. The bed was also just a bit too small, but what an excuse it was to tangle legs together and have Aziraphale tucked up under his chin, half on top of him. Crowley held him close, even in the larger bed at the flat. This would be no exception.

“You know,” Crowley said, just before Aziraphale could surely and truly drift off, “I had thought for certain you wanted to swap roles for the night.”

“Oh? No,” Aziraphale chuckled. “Unless you wanted to? I wouldn’t say no, of course, if you wanted to. I simply just, well—”

“It’s alright, no need to get flustered,” Crowley kissed his head.

“I rather like what we have now, I suppose,” Aziraphale said. “Perhaps I prefer this? I haven’t really had enough experience to say that.”

“You can say whatever you want, angel. There’s no base line experience to decide you like being a whiny little shit.”

“Crowley!”

Crowley laughed, and for the moment, Aziraphale couldn’t really do anything other than join him. Aziraphale settled into Crowley’s chest and finally let his eyes close, after that. For a rare and special moment, he even fell asleep first, which left Crowley lying there ever longer to watch the soft ways his eyelashes fluttered. Angels _did_ dream.

**Author's Note:**

> 𓆏 lol no i'm not gonna write bottom crowley 𓆏  
  
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